Bucharest 1918 by Harriet Levin Millan An uncle was killed during the war for wearing the wrong color hat. He wasn’t a soldier. He didn’t see the rifle barrel aimed at his neck. He was standing by the side of the road watching a bird, a red-tailed woodpecker, listening for its home. Death is a home unseen by the side of the road, the rifle barrel aimed. A bird listens with its neck. During the war many uncles were killed. They were not soldiers. They were wearing colorful hats. Continue reading... (Poem published by Narrative magazine.)
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